


i hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

by ElasticElla



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, Femslash February, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Stupid.Stupidto underestimate the latest would-be assassin.
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	i hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

**Author's Note:**

> title from madonna's like a prayer

Stupid. _Stupid_ to underestimate the latest would-be assassin. She’d been toying with him in the end, considering using his parts for unspoken magic, when he stabbed her with a hidden knife. He’d gotten a hastily snapped neck for that, and Yennefer was bleeding out, had used too much of her chaos in fighting off the others to heal herself. Fuck, she couldn’t even remember a decent healing spell. 

Positively amateur. What Tissaia would say if she could see her now, felled by her own arrogance. What-

There’s a tickle over the back of her wrist, one she’s felt a few times over the years. Triss, she thinks with relief, and for the first time since she ran, Yennefer opens the connection, allows Triss to find her. 

Her gut aches, even as she presses a fist to it, dark spots in her vision. She blearily makes out chestnut curls, and then everything goes dark. 

.

Yennefer wakes slowly, taking in her surroundings sense by sense. The bed is full of feathers, far nicer than the magical cot in her tent, has the depth of feeling only real objects do. Her mouth is dry, lips cracked, and she’ll need water soon. It smells like a greenhouse, too many fun plants to be back in Aretuza. She hears faint whispers of cloth, stirring, and she opens her eyes to see Triss making a potion. 

“Right on time,” Triss says, ladling it into a small cup. “The pain should be hitting you-” 

“Uggggh” 

“-now,” Triss finishes with a crooked smile, bringing her the cup. “Drink up.” 

Not only does the potion taste disgusting, it does absolutely nothing for the pain. (She must be getting older, a knife to the gut and she’s a child once more crying over a skinned knee. How funny, the circle of age.) 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Triss says, taking the empty cup back. 

Yennefer falls back against the pillows, mind returning to her, “I know.” 

“I should have known it would take an injury for it to take.” 

“I wanted to visit.” 

Triss rolls her eyes, and Yennefer doesn’t like that, not one bit. “I was going to once the flow of hired killers stopped.” 

“It’s alright Yen, I know-” 

“No,” she interrupts firmly, grasping her wrist tight. “I _was_.” 

Triss raises an eyebrow, and Yennefer drops her wrist, a fire in her gut. Triss sits on the bed, and Yennefer tries again, can feel her heat through the thick blankets. 

“You’ve done well for yourself; revolutionizing potions, saving the princess-” 

Triss laughs lightly, “We both know I didn’t battle her until the third crowing.” 

“You found someone to save her instead of slay her. You always were the best of us.” 

“Such flattery, the herbs must be working.” 

“Or something.” 

Triss looks away, and Yennefer won’t have that, was only a few heartbeats away from death not so long ago. “You were still looking for me. Why?”

Triss clasps her hands together, still won’t look. “Must I say it?” 

“You were the only one that didn’t give up on me.” 

Triss sighs, finally meets her eyes, looking more resigned than anything else. “I love you. There, now can we-” 

Yennefer sits up sharply, cares not for the pain in her side, only the burning in her blood. Kisses Triss before she can make her lay back again, kisses her to make up for all the time lost. It was something she half-suspected before, but when nothing ever happened she thought it was her head playing fancy. 

Triss feels real underneath her fingertips, real and alive, and Yennefer can think of no better place to be.


End file.
